


Our House

by Red_Rover



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Shortandsweet, Sparkling Moments Challenge, YeeHaw!Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:29:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23265490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Rover/pseuds/Red_Rover
Summary: A paint-speckled moment.
Relationships: Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue
Comments: 13
Kudos: 47





	Our House

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lapetitemort20](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapetitemort20/gifts).



> For La Petite Mort, because she deserves a light-hearted, happy moment.

She stifled her laugh at the scene before her, not wanting to disturb the moment. There was her man, totally engrossed in painting the ceiling, head titled back, unsuccessfully squinting to avoid the splatter – his face and hair were already covered with speckles of white paint - and eyebrows jumping like old-fashioned typewriter keys as he belted out “Sold” along with the speaker in an exaggerated country intonation. Such a goof, yet he managed to look absolutely fuckable all at the same time. His faded Home Is Canada t-shirt was stretched tight across his broad shoulders and rode up, revealing the v of his abdomen above the blue basketball shorts slung low on his hips. He’d let his hair grow out, and it was beginning to curl around his ears and at the nape of his neck. 

He covered the last section of discoloured, yellow ceiling with fresh, white paint, set down the roller with a flourish, and shuffled towards her in time with the music. 

“Hey, pretty lady, won’t you give me a sign? I’d give anything to make you mine o’ mine!” he drawled as he extended his hand to her and bowed, inviting her to dance. She took is hand, and with a delighted, “YEEHAW!” he whisked her off her perch on the ladder and lead her into a lively cavort. The brown paper protecting the floor crinkled merrily beneath them as they traipsed across the empty room.

They twirled and two-stepped for the remaining minutes of the song. He sang along, committed to the ridiculous accent throughout, and she grinned and laughed all the while, letting herself be immersed in the joy of the moment.

The song finished, but they stayed swaying, hand in hand. 

“Whatcha thinking?” he asked, head cocked to the side.

“I’m thinking about how much I love being here with you, painting our room, in our house,” she said, and linked her hands around his neck, twirling the short ends of his hair in her nimble fingers, as she looked up at him.

His face split into a wide smile, and he settled his hands on her hips, “I love you so much, Mrs. Virtue-Moir.”

“I love you, too, so much, Mr. Virtue-Moir,” she responded in kind.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by painting my entire apartment, was written in about 30 mins, and is unbeta'd. If it's terrible, blame all the paint fumes I've been breathing for the last few days. If it's good, it was probably still the paint fumes.


End file.
